


To fight for a genuine smile (To All Of Those Who Break)

by ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis (Original_Cypher)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bullshit tweet 2.0, closeting, november 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know the fandom's reaction to the bullshit tweet 2.0 of November 10th 2014, although the ripples are still unfolding, especially in the press.<br/>But all I could think about was how it must have felt for Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuesday, November 11th 2014

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like when Louis is portrayed as fragile and needy in fanfic because he's shown us that he is anything but for the past four years. Oh he feels, o how he feels. But he clamps down, he clenches his teeth on everything and gets insomnia instead. He is the rock, strong and unmoving in the storm.  
> It's probably because I am like this myself that I find it very relatable. And that I can state this easily:  
> Rocks are hard to move. You can't huff and puff and blow them down.  
> But rocks don't bend.  
> They break.

“Lou?” Harry called again, walking back into the house, a frown on his face. The keys were hanging on their hook. A pair of snickers had been scattered across the floor in the entryway when Harry had come in. Louis _was_ home.

But when Louis was home, the house was never silent. There were only few reasons for which Louis wouldn't immediately yell back to let Harry know where he was upon arrival. He could be kicking about in the yard. Which he wasn't, Harry had just gone to check. He could be in the shower, unable to have heard Harry's car on the gravel, nor his greeting and calls through the house.

Harry jogged up the stairs, his suspicions confirmed as he approached their room. The shower wasn't running, he'd be able to hear it from here.

It was funny this sensation of anticipation that always made people walk softer, almost tip toe, as they stepped into what they expected to be a disaster. As if slowing down and approaching it carefully would lessen the blow they were bracing to take.

He found the door of the room ajar, and pushed it open gently.

On the bed, an ipad showed a browser with three tabs open. As he walked closer, Harry saw twitter displaying Louis' mentions; the other tabs appeared to be tumblr and a search for his name in the News section on google. Louis' body lay, stretched out in the comforter, inches away from the device.

Even with his back turned, even looking so small in Harry's huge slouchy sweater, and hunched in on himself, Louis looked magnificent.

Harry padded closer to the bed, picked up the tablet and turned it off. He set it on the nightstand.

Louis sniffed quietly. “You shouldn't look at that.”

Harry shuffled closer, lying down behind Louis and rubbing a hand down his arm. “ _You_ shouldn't look at that.”

Louis shivered under Harry's hand, and made a quiet pained sound, turning his face more firmly into the pillow. Harry frowned, face twisting in helpless sadness, and he squeezed Louis' arm. The older man let out a quiet gasping sob. “I'm sorry,” he said, eventually, voice cracked and small.

“Don't you dare,” Harry said, quiet but firm.

“I don't want you to see me like this.”

“ _Louis._ ” Harry pressed closer, wrapped himself around Louis' back and looped an arm around his torso. “I hate to see you like this. But if you _are_ , I wanna see.” He found Louis' hand and stroked his thumb across the back of it. “I wanna know. I wanna be here for you. … Thick and thin. Like we promised.” He ghosted his lips on the back of Louis' neck, just above the sweater's collar. “That is also what it meant.”

Louis turned his hand so he could squeeze Harry's. He swallowed.

“Unless...” Harry thought about wounded horses and felines in pain. “Unless you want me to leave you alone. If you'd prefer some space, I could-...”

“No.” There was a hint of panic in Louis' face as he quickly laced their fingers and clamped on his hold. As if he thought that, had Harry started moving away, he wouldn't have been back in the blink of an eye if asked to stay. “Please, don't go.”

Quick to oblige, Harry settled back and held Louis close. The moment stretched on, so quiet that Harry could make out the faint dull sound of tear drops falling on the pillowcase at random intervals. He kept running his thumb over the back of Louis' hand, until Louis shifted so they could both stroke their fingers together, lazy and intimate. After an age, Louis let out a sigh and shuffled around with jerky motions until he could fold himself against Harry's side, face tucked under Harry's jaw. Harry let him position himself comfortably, and lay on his back, wrapping his arm around Louis' frame as he settled.

Louis stared at his on fingers as they picked at the buttons on Harry's shirt, then flicked an angry tear away. “I'm a monster.”

There was such finality in that statement, such defeat, that Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to deny it, straight away. To shake Louis for even saying the words out loud even if he didn't mean them. But he _did_ mean them. And that made Harry listen. “Why?”

“Those things... Harry, they're horrible.”

“But they weren't _you_.”

“Well, _you_ know that!” he pushed himself up and met Harry's gaze for the first time. His eyes were red, lashes suck together, and he looked so tired and miserable. “But... god, the entire world thinks that I...”

“People see through that, Lou.”

“ _Some_ people.” He dug his fingers into his eye sockets so hard that Harry almost reached out to tug his hand away. “That's not even what I'm...”

Seizing the opportunity when he pulled back on his own, Harry trapped Louis' slender fingers between his own, giving them a prompting sort of comforting squeeze. “What is it?”

“Those words, Haz. What they _mean_. It's not the first time, either, it's... Can you imagine what it's done to these kids?” A lone tear rolled down Louis cheek, and he pressed his face to his shoulder to dab it away into the sweater with annoyance. “The ones that support equality and tolerance. The ones that wear those bloody beautiful hearts, for _you_. And then _'I'_ come around and say that shit? Can you imagine what it does to a confused fifteen year old boy that's crushing on another dude and sees that? That...”

Harry stroked his face gently. “I see what it does to you.”

Louis inhaled shakily, pressing in to the touch. He let his eyes fall close. “At face value, it's horrible... But, you say people see through it-...”

“You _know_ they do.”

“I think it's worse.”

Harry frowned, finding Louis' eyes open and cold. He was used to read those expressions by then. There was the cold, quiet look of righteous anger. But there was something else, added to the tiredness and the defeat. A veil of self-hatred that made his insides twist bitterly. “... what do you mean?”

Louis licked his lips, looking like he tasted something sour. “I'm letting it happen. I _did_ this. I _agreed_ to this.” The low growl of ire was unmistakable in the firmness of his words. “I... I fucking signed on for this. I got down on my knees and told business “yeah, fuck my face, that ain't even gay”.” His smirk at the quip had nothing to do with amusement, and it still fell off his face in a blink. “I didn't just sign away my soul, Haz. I sold them my _voice_. All of it.”

Silence stretched on.

“We all did,” Harry said, eventually.

Louis pinned him with a look, there was a hint of fond humor there, so Harry knew Louis was still with him. “That's not really helping me feel better, babes.”

“I know, but listen...” he ran his hands up Louis' arms, traced patterns on his cheeks. “We all did. We couldn't have known, back then, that this would be what it meant. We were tricked. And even _they_ couldn't have known how big this whole thing would be, I mean...”

Louis nodded. They didn't need to say it out loud to marvel at the adventure that had been their lives for the past five years.

“We signed up to play hide and seek, remember? That was the deal. After that it was too late. Dodging became lying and... You can't blame yourself for not being born with the gift of foresight. We were young. We were eager. We had one option.” Harry shrugged. “They fucked us over. It's hardly seldom,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “Hell, hey, want me to call Mick and talk about their first albums?”

Louis made a whining noise and pressed his face to Harry's chest. “I know, Hazza. I know that the people that get it know that, too, but...” he sighed. “Actions have consequences. And even if you couldn't foresee them, you're still responsible. I can't not feel that way.”

Harry wrapped both arms securely around Louis and held him tight. “I know. I know...” he dragged his fingers through Louis' hair until he pried a pleasured noise from him. “It's nearly over, Lou.”

“Baby, that's what we keep thinking. Over and over.” Louis said quietly. “I'm tired of hoping.”

Harry tightened the arm at Louis' back and nudged his fingers in harder. “Come on, Lou. We both know this is it. We know what this is. They have to let us go and since we're moving on, they're trying to sink the ship so no one else can have it.”

Louis huffed a quiet snicker, lifting his head to duck an eyebrow at Harry's accidental reference to their ink, to _Larry_ , to their fans.

Ignoring him, Harry tugged him in for a swift kiss. “They will not get us.” He shifted abruptly, rolling on top of Louis and speaking against his lips. “We all agreed,” he reminded Louis. “We will be free. We will be ourselves. _Soon_. Because there is no other way to be.” He pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, repeating the words all five of them had chanted, agreed on, contract much stronger than their name on paper. Their pact. “Because we all agree. If we're not happy, then we're not doing the job anymore. And if being ourselves makes the fans turn away, then... fuck it. Fuck millions and fuck fame. We'll do open mike nights because _that's_ what we love. Zee will open a tattoo parlor and for some reason Niall will manage to make him call it the Shamrock. He and Liam will make their own brew. I'll open a bakery that I will _not_ call 'Harry's buns' not matter how hard you insist, and you'll buy three football teams.” He trailed off when he managed to get a chuckle out of his lover. “I _will_ be free, Louis Tomlinson. And I will be yours. Always.”

Louis yanked him down into a hug, his laughter shaky and tight with emotion, and pressed frantic kisses to his hair, hissing insults between Harry's giggles. “You proper dork... you stupid, magnificent idiot... yes, I will be yours, you dolt. Always been.... Free or not. I'm always yous.”

Humming in assent, Harry kissed along Louis' jaw, down his neck. He pushed the soft sleeve of the sweater up past Louis' elbow. Louis watched as he mouthed from the palm of his hand to the inside of his elbow, then turned Louis' arm to get to the outside. He tracked the arrow inked there with tender, lingering kisses. When he pulled back to stroke over it with his fingertips, he met Louis' gaze. “Do you remember what this means, Lou?”

Louis ducked an eyebrow, stroking the heart bearing his initial on Harry's arm. “Um... I'm not senile yet. It hasn't been that long, babe.”

Harry tired to give him a deadpan look, but it had too much fondness to be convincing. “The other thing.”

Louis blinked. Oh. _That._

Louis didn't need to say it out loud, the tide of emotion and understanding crashing back in his eyes spoke volume. Harry went back to scattering kisses at random spaces along the tattoo. “How do you shoot an arrow, Louis?”

Louis closed his foggy eyes and swallows. He whispered. “You draw it backwards.”

Harry pressed a couple more kisses to the ink, ending with a last, rough one to the tip, and slid his hand up to Louis', tangling their fingers. He dipped Louis' arm down to the bed, pinning it there, and crawled back over him to mold their lips together. “What's a drawback, Louis?” he murmured as he pulled away, hovering above Louis' face.

Louis kept his eyes closed and answered like one recites a song they know by heart. “The prelude to a mad jump forward.”

“Yes.” Harry sunk down, resting his weight gently onto Louis. “Don't lose your target.” He sounded like he was quoting something himself. “Keep aiming. We're about to fly off into the sun.”

“ _Harry._ ” Louis' brows furrowed, his heart thudding hard against both their ribcages.

Harry wiped under Louis' eyes softly. The very tip of his thumbs running along mostly dry eyelashes and fanning them back to their usual feathery shape. “Keep your eyes on the prize,” he whispered, quoting the popular saying.

Louis opened his eyes, reaching up to tangle his hands in Harry's hair. “Always do.”

Harry ducked his head, blushing, dimples making an appearance.

“Even when they don't want me to. I always do,” Louis reminds them both.

Harry met his eyes. He was touched, too. Of course, he was just as affected by all of this. Just as tired of the hiding and the lies. Tired of trying to understand why anyone would think it even needed to be that way. But he'd had Louis remind him enough times, and now that Louis was so tired and in pain he'd lost sight of it, he would be the one to say it again. Because that's what they did. They carried each other through the dark. “It's almost over, Lou.”

The grip in his hair tightened and Louis simply hissed, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And Harry did. It started frenzied and clingy, Louis shedding the last of his disquiet, pouring his inner turmoil into it. It was a bruising, biting embrace and Harry gave himself over to it completely. The devouring desperation trying to suck in every bit of comfort possible, trying to forget itself in their shared and grounded love. Eventually, the kissed turned into something else. Harry felt the pace change, and Louis loosen and gasp out the tension. Remembrance that no white knuckled grip was necessary between them, because they were so intertwined that nothing could pull them apart. It brought Louis calm. The tidal wave of his breakdown pulling back to reveal a newly spotless shore, smooth and unbroken again.

Harry basked in it, and dipped in deeper to run his tongue in a long swipe over the roof of Louis' mouth. It was a ridiculous move, but it dragged a strangled moan out of Louis, and had them break the kiss with a quiet chuckle. Louis kept both his arms looped behind Harry's neck, tucking their faces close, and breathed.

They stayed like that without the need for words for a while, until Louis' stomach growled at them. With a snicker, Harry pulled back, pressing kisses to Louis cheeks, then his eyes, and rested their foreheads together. “Wanna go downstairs and eat?”

Louis nodded against him. “Okay,” he answered meekly.

Harry pushed off and held out his hand. “What do you feel like?” he asked as he hauled the smaller man up to his feet.

Louis used their linked hands to spin Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist. “What do _you_ feel like?” he returned, looking up at him with a challenge.

“ _Lou..._ ”

“You're trying to cheer me up, yeah?” Louis cut in, finding confirmation in Harry's eyes. “Then tell me what you wanna eat. I wanna make it for you.”

Harry regarded him quietly for a moment, trying to focus on the moment and not start babbling on about how much he loved this man. He cupped both hands to Louis' face and spoke between kisses. “Okay. I refuse- _refuse_ that either of us leave the house to do this so... I hope we have some salmon in the freezer.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis grinned, catching his drift. “You want me to make those en papillote thingies again?” Harry groaned. “So you liked 'em, huh?”

“Like you didn't know.” Harry huffed in mock annoyance. “I'll have you know, I don't just lick my plate for anyone.”

Leaning back in their embrace to smirk at Harry, Louis silently arched a single eyebrow.

Harry snorted. “Go on, say it.”

“You do plenty of licking for my benefit, though.”

Harry laughed, pulling him in for a quick press of lips. “ _And_ he's back,” he cheered, then grew more serious. “You must be feeling better, then, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis gave a brief squeeze to Harry's waist with his arms, and flashed a smile. It was tired, but genuine. “Thank you.”

Harry returned the expression, helpless to do anything but. “I love you.”

Louis let go of him so that he could reach up and cup Harry's face in his hands. He gazed up at Harry for a while, smiling and silent. Then he shook his head, wistful grin growing wider and more alight. “I love _you._ ”


	2. Tuesday, November 10th 2015

The boys are taking a short break from some intense days of pow wows and song writing.

Recently, they've decided on the name of their fifth album. Providing any light bulb moment upstaging the current working title, the new opus will be called “If I Had the Words”. They've chosen to give the seventh spot on the record's tracklist for the actual song the title is from. It was written by Harry, Louis and Liam mostly. It's naturally a love song, bemoaning the inability to even find words to explain how moved, how grateful, how loved and loving one feels. It can be read different ways, and was purposefully written that way. It's as much a love letter to someone. From Harry to Louis, and from Louis to Harry. From whoever sings it to the person they're confessing to. As it is addressed, as a whole, to the fans. To those who stayed. Who understood. Who understood between the lines. Then those who understood after the curtains fell and the ugly truths came out. The idea is devastatingly simple. They don't even have the words to describe how much they feel, and how much they return.

They've also written some barely disguised political opinions in some of the new songs, especially that one secret writing collab with Billie Joe Armstrong. They've also managed to book an actual recording sesh with Watsky, with whom they discussed a song and who brought a rapped bridge that they hope they can make happen live someday, if they manage to work live dates around to do so.

They're hoping that the public will react positively to an album that is not 100% love songs and cheeky party anthems. Although they haven't completely abandoned them: The first single is lined up already, called Rock The Boat. It is both a call for general acceptance and tolerance – it's possible that one of Niall and Louis' favorite jams, to this day, remains Ain't Nothing Wrong With that, and it's in the same vein – and a vow to stay young and mischievous and willing to shake things up were they ever in danger of getting boring. The chorus is a play on the phrases “whatever floats your boat” and “as long as you rock the boat”. They were almost done with it when Zayn pointed out with a fake harassed expression that they were still going with the sailing metaphors. Which they claim, to this day, had only been subconscious, in this case...

They're still in the middle of tearing their hair out deciding between different options. They wanna see as much of the public as they can, but they would also like to do smaller venues, and get to interact with the crowd more. Which would either mean more dates and longer tours, or ditching some countries and cities, and they're not too happy with that idea either. But when they get frustrated over their own inability to make up their mind, there's always one of them to huff dramatically and remind them how horrible these 'superstar problems' are.

Even though, the two week reprieve from the self imposed brainstorming marathon they've been doing mostly at Zayn's is doing them all some good. They still saw each other, naturally. But not for work.

Louis and Harry have been MIA for a while, their last sighting dating back to twelve days ago when they were seen at a pub with Liam, Stan and a group of other friends. Acting freely and being affectionate toward each other while visibly having a blast with everyone.

It's been a long time since tweets that weren't his own and didn't just address simple promotion have been deleted off Louis' account. He's mostly silent nowadays. But sometimes, no actual words are necessary.

> _Louis_Tomlinson retweeted  
> _ 09/11/15 9:21pm  
>  Harry_Styles.: To the honeymoon and back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of those who break:  
> Tears don't mean you're not strong. Tears mean you've been strong for too long.
> 
> xxx
> 
> Side note, here you have Harry being my own mouthpiece as to what symbolizes, to me, the arrow tattoo I'm saving for.


End file.
